


Day Eight

by The_Problematic_Blender



Series: "This is going to Hell in a hand basket real fast!" [12]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: AS TORTURE, Character Death, Cutting, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, Lemon Salt, M/M, No actual self harm, Torture, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Problematic_Blender/pseuds/The_Problematic_Blender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor suffers eight days, and makes someone else suffer as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Eight

**Author's Note:**

> An excersize in unreliable narration, Torturer Trevor, and Collsey (hope I'm spelling that ship name right).

Geoff was gone.

Geoff was gone and that was all Trevor could think about.

Everyone was worried, doing there best to find their boss, hoping that the guys who took Geoff were still in the city. Trevor didn't care about where they are, they are going to pay all the same if they were thirty miles or thirty hundred miles.

Kdin and Gavin were attached to their screens, and Trevor doesn't remember ever seeing the two sleep. They would both mumble a response when someone asked them to just close their eyes for a few minutes. Ryan and Michael were shaking down Rats for information, and sadly there was no important they could use. Jack and Matt were busy asking mutual crews if they had information, and it was as successful as Ryan and Michael's attempts.

Trevor? Trevor had no skills that could be used to find Geoff. The only thing Trevor could do is sit and wait with worry. He had been trying to remain on his normal schedule, eating three times a day, showering and changing clothes, and getting a bare resemblance of sleep; making the others do the same. People thanked Trevor for bringing in fast food for them to eat when people couldn't get away for their tasks to eat. He smiled and nodded, trying to keep himself busy. If he was busy, he wasn't thinking of Geoff.

But the minute he wasn't busy, Trevor thought of Geoff, worried for Geoff. It was making him sick, and whenever Trevor's thoughts drifted to Geoff, his whole attempt of keeping to the schedule was ruined. It felt like when blinked, four hours passed before he even realized it. Jeremy had found Trevor in his room during one of these times, head in his hands and physically shaking. Jeremy thought Trevor was having a panic attack, Trevor wasn't completely sure he didn't. After that Caleb routinely checked on him to make sure he was okay.

It was the eighth day. Trevor was in the medical bay when the news broke. He had decided that he would go and sit there when he had nothing to do, and it helped Caleb keep tabs on him. Jack rushed in and said that they figured out where Geoff was being held up, and to be ready for anything.

Trevor asked if they could bring back the leader, mostly unharmed.

Jack smiled and nodded.

They left at ten that night and didn't come back until five am. Trevor sat in worry for five hours before his phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to see it was from Jeremy. They had Geoff, and he was safe. Relief filled Trevor, and he let out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. Geoff was okay. He was okay he was okay he was okay. Trevor smiled for the first time that week. Two hours more and Geoff burst through the door of the medical bay, and Trevor was overjoyed at the sight of him. It's mere seconds before they start kissing, sweet and passionate and loving. Trevor forgot how great is was to just be able to feel Geoff, his body pressing against his, warming him to the very core.

“You look like shit, Collins.” Geoff said when they broke apart. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Says the person that was kidnapped.” Geoff glares at Trevor. “I tried, not much though.” Trevor admitted. “Gavin and Kdin probably look like zombies at this point.”

“Those little fuckers, not knowing when to stop.” Geoff smiled, God Trevor loved that smile. “I fucking missed you.”

“I was so worried about you.” Trevor said, looking down. “I just… I didn't know, and they…” Trevor's voice began to shake, and Geoff noticed.

“Hey, hey. I'm here.” Geoff said quietly, pulling Trevor into a hug. “I'm not going to leave you. I'm okay and you're okay. We are all okay.” Trevor was trying not to sob into Geoff's shoulder, he was just so worried and now Geoff was here and okay and everything hurt emotionally.

“As much as I hate to interrupt,” Caleb starts timidly. “I do need to make sure Geoff is not bleeding or something of the sort.”

“You gonna be okay?” Geoff asks when they broke apart, and Trevor nodded, not trusting his own voice. Geoff reached a tattooed hand to Trevor's cheek, wiping a rebellious tear from his face. “I'll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah.” Trevor says, weakly smiling. Caleb waits patiently for the two to say their goodbyes, and Trevor respectfully left the medical bay. He looked down the hall before making his way to a room he never really familiarized with, ironically. The torture room.

Trevor opened the door to the equivalent of a police interrogation viewing room. There were ten chairs, five on each side, splitting in the middle for the doors in and out. There were one way windows on either side of the door, replacing the wall with the windows. Trevor was surprised to see Ryan sitting in a chair in his peripherals, his feet resting on the chair next to him. His mask was discarded somewhere, face paint still on, slightly smudged.

“I didn't know you tortured.” Ryan said, not in an accusing way, just a curious one.

“I don't anymore.” Trevor started. “That was my job when B-Team was its own crew.” He laughed weakly. “I'm sure Jeremy could tell you some stories.”

“He tagged along?”

“Usually. Also walked in on me attempting a blood eagle. He accidentally startled me and I punctured the guy’s lung.”

“So close.” Ryan said, smiling. “I never gotten really far with those, none of them had the will to live and just jerked their body around until something vital got cut open.”

“That can be pesky sometimes.” Trevor says.

“Mind if I watch?” Ryan asks, and upon noticing the hitched eyebrow, he adds: “Don't want to listen in if you're going to be personal about it.”

“It's fine.” Trevor says, walking over to the second door, hesitating, and then pushing the door open. The man jerks up to see the source of the noise, and sneers when he sees it's Trevor. True, Trevor is slightly unassuming, focusing more on cardio than strength, but he was still well built. He also wasn't Ryan, who the guy was probably expecting. Trevor ignores the man as he goes to the kitchenette in the corner, pulling an unmarked bottle and a bag of sea salt from the cabinet.

“I was expecting-”

“Vagabond.” Trevor cuts off as he grabs a plastic bowl.

“Yeah, not some kid.” Trevor laughs at that, pouring a fourth of the bag into the bowl. “You would think that they had a reputation to live up to.”

“Trust me, compared to me, the Vagabond’s torture is a walk in the park.” The man snorts, as expected.

“And why do you say that?” He says, and Trevor says nothing as he stirs the liquid and salt together, making it a gritty scrub. He leaves it on the counter, however, instead going for a scalpel on a rolling cart, freshly cleaned since its last use. Trevor walks over to the man, and sees his eyes betray him with a flash of fear.

“This is one of the rare occasions I torture for my own enjoyment.” Trevor informs. “I haven't tortured since I joined this crew, as before it was my main job.” Trevor drags the scalpel along his skin, careful not to leave a mark in his skin yet. He's glad that they restrained him with his forearms out, showing the pale skin he was going to mark up. “How long did you have Geoff?” Trevor asks, and when the man doesn't respond, he grabs the collar of his bloody shirt and pulls him as far as he can with the restraints. The scalpel is pressed warningly against his throat as he makes eye contact with the man for the first time. “I asked a question, so give me an answer.” Trevor calmly said through bared teeth.

“A week? M-Maybe more?” He stuttered. Trevor will give him that, releasing his grip and pulled the scalpel away.

“Eight days.” He corrects. “Eight long days. Do you know why I care about this so much?”

“He's your boss?” He stumbled out immediately, and Trevor hums, proud of him learning quickly.

“Close, but he is the boss of the Vagabond, and here I am. Any idea?” Trevor asks, and the man shakes his head. “No punishment for a wrong guess.” Trevor offers, and he still has nothing. “I am a man of risk, you could say.” Trevor said, moving behind him for no real reason. “And Geoff Ramsey is a beautiful risk to take.”

“You're banging your boss?” The man bluntly asks, and Trevor could sense the spike of fear.

“Technically, yes, I guess you could say that.” Trevor says, returning to his front, bending down in front of him and making eye contact once more. “I'm going to take you through the last eight days of my life. I'm going to show you the pain I felt.” Trevor takes his scalpel and makes a firm line in his captured’s forearm, just above the wrist. It takes the man by surprise, and there is a hiss of pain. Trevor ignores him, continuing making cuts in the arm.

“Day one.” Trevor says. “Pained worry.” He continues up the arm, spacing it well enough so twenty four cuts fit on his forearm. Twenty four cuts, twenty four hours. “The easiest of days.” Trevor says while he works. “Filled with hope and promise.” Once the man has managed to control his breathing, only wincing slightly at every new incision, Trevor smiles slightly.

“Day two.” Trevor cuts his opposite arm, and the man nearly yelps. “same as day two. Same hope, just less of it.” He punctuates this with cutting slightly deeper into the skin. It's bleeding messily, and Trevor worries he's going to bleed out before Trevor finishes. He lets up on the cutting, keeping them shallow. “It stings worse than the last day.” Forty eight cuts in total. And he can tell that the man isn't doing so well because of it. Trevor is past his point of caring.

Trevor goes over to the kitchenette and sets down the scalpel, grabs the bowl, tests it with another stir, and smiles at the fact it hasn't dried yet. He walks over with the blue plastic bowl, patiently waiting for him to get a hold of himself. It takes several minutes, and once he looks at Trevor, Trevor gives a warm smile and the man looks like he is going to puke.

“Day three, four, five, six, and seven.” Trevor says. “If you keep yourself busy, you won't notice the pain. But my skills were limited, and so-” Trevor takes a scoop of the mixture and slams it down onto his arm, and he _screams._ “And so I'm not busy often, and pain comes back.” Another scoop, and now putting it on his other arm. “It comes back with a vengeance.” The man is squirming and screaming, trying to get away from the substance. Sea salt mixed with lemon juice always made them react like this. He tries to pull his arms away, but the restraints hold strong. He puts on another scoop to each arm before rubbing it in, making the man absolutely howl, and Trevor is glad that the two rooms have the best soundproofing possible, otherwise there would be noise complaints from the next city over.

Trevor rubs the salt in, making it turn a pretty pink and orange. It reminded him of the early stages of a sunset, the colors first light pastels before becoming intense and blinding. He mumbles a song he's long forgotten the title of, which was a shame, it had a good tune. He watches as the man looks like he is having a seizure.

“Do you understand how stupid your idea was?”

There is a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches before jerking his head, face to face with Geoff. Geoff’s eyes are filled with pain and sorrow, tears threatening to fall, and the hand from his shoulder falls to his hand.

“Please, come back to me.”

Trevor never makes it to day eight.

**Author's Note:**

> You can perceive this ending any way you like.
> 
> Kudos, Comment, Share with that one person that's in the fandom you like and want to be in pain with you.
> 
> You aren't bothering me with comments. I respond to all.


End file.
